


For Your Eyes Only

by Cap1942



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Art, Boys Kissing, Dirty Talk, Drawing, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, John Talks Dirty, Kissing, M/M, Messy, Nudity, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sherlock Texting, Sherlock is a Tease, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7446379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap1942/pseuds/Cap1942
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock discovers John's talent for drawing and in doing so, asks for a portrait of himself. During the process of drawing each feature of Sherlock, John suddenly turns his words into dirty banter with a sprinkle of loving comments, and things continue to get messy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Your Eyes Only

**Author's Note:**

> Little something I cooked up. Enjoy! :)

They needed to separate for the sake of the case. They moved in opposite directions; John to the West, and Sherlock to the East. Both of the boys were going to stake out apposing sides of the street in hopes of catching the criminal they were desperately seeking.

John didn't like the idea of being away from Sherlock and being alone for so long. He got bored so quickly these days when there was even the slightest lull in the process of solving a case. He was beginning to feel a bit more like Sherlock with every case they'd come up against.

At least John got the side with a good view. A distant but beautiful view of Parliament, its brown color and iconic clock tower so pleasing to the eye as always. He had never given it worthy look until now. He was taken by the magnificent structure until there was a ping from his phone; a single text from Sherlock:

 

_Pretty quiet so far. And on your end? -SH_

_Quiet. Beautiful view though. Wish you were here to see it.-JW_

_Thought you'd like it. Only a few more hours. -SH_  

 

John wanted to text more but he decided to let the conversation die. He didn't want to ruin Sherlock's focus.

The next two hours were two of the longest hours in John's lifetime. Boring. He resisted the urge to pick up his phone and text Sherlock until the temptation was overwhelming. He didn't want to discuss the case.

 

_I miss you. -JW_

 

He just wanted to know that Sherlock was still there. John wondered if he thought about him as much as he thought about Sherlock. John didn't want to be alone anymore. He wasn't getting anywhere with the case and his arms yearned to wrap themselves around Sherlock's thin body.

 

_Miss you too. See you as soon as the sun goes down. -SH_

 

John looked out into the horizon. The sun wasn't too far from setting while it hit the structure before him in at an alluring angle. To pass the time John pulled out his notebook and pencil from his pocket and flipped passed the notes he'd taken from past and current cases to get to a blank page where he began sketching the likeness of the monument in front of him.

He sketched every piece of it in breathtaking detail. He was very good to be honest; a quality he was quite proud of having but not too keen of sharing. Only a few people in his life knew of his extraordinary talent, he wasn't a show off.

He was finally starting to enjoy himself until he heard a ping again come from his phone and as he watched the sun dip behind the buildings of the city.

 

_Let's call it for tonight. Stay where you are I'm coming to get you.-SH_

 

John looked down at his half-complete drawing; He really wanted to finish it but it would seem his art would have to wait.

 

***

 

Later on back at the flat, John was at his computer typing away at an entry for his latest case, along with Sherlock hard at work his mindpalace.

"John, your notebook," Sherlock called out extending out his palm and waiting for John to comply.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, John reached into his coat pocket withdrawing his pad and handing it over. To his left John could hear Sherlock flipping promptly through his notes until he heard the ruffling of the pages come to a stand still.

"Sherlock, did you find something?" John asked turning away from the screen in front of him.

Sherlock was frightfully delicate with the way he held the notebook in his hands. His eyes deliberated what he had found. He was dumbfounded on how easily he had missed such a critical part of what made John who he was.

His John was an artist.

"John. This is beautiful."

"What is?" John questioned, not fully registering what Sherlock had found.

Sherlock scoffed, "this," he said showing him his own unfinished drawing.

"How could I have not seen it before?" Sherlock danced around the room still holding the drawing in his grasp. "The way you hold your utensil, with your last digit of your forefinger against it, helping you get more control over your lines. And the way you lean in close when you read the paper for a case and type on your computer. And how feeble you are with your hand writing, it's so obvious!"

John smiled as he watched Sherlock obsess over something so minimal.

"And your hands," Sherlock ran over and kneeled down to John sitting in his chair taking his hands in his. He massaged his fingers over John's own and felt his palms. "Rough, like an artist." John laughed again squeezing Sherlock's palms tighter.

"You're ridiculous," John said as he stared into Sherlock's wide galactic eyes being lit by the roaring embers of the fire. John brought his hands to his lips and kissed them.

"When did you learn? I assume a pass time during the war?"

"I've always had a natural talent for it, and yes, I used it often during the war as an escape. I'd draw all the time just to make the days go by faster." Sherlock smiled softly at him bringing his face closer to John's, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't seem very useful to our work."

"Nonsense John, the eye of an artist is always a sharp one and I am proud to have one all to myself." John licked his lips, "come here," he said pulling his hands away and wrapping them around Sherlock, pulling his body onto his lap. Sherlock always knew how to make him feel speical. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's shoulders while John pressed his open lips onto Sherlock's.

Sherlock slowly grinded his body against John's, gasping with his breath beginning to hitch. As they made out, John kissed him tenderly tangling one hand in his curls and using the other to caress Sherlock's back. John pulled away for a moment to really memorize Sherlock's details with the taller man's lustful eyes tempting him.

John graced his fingers slowly down the curve of Sherlock's cheekbone. "God just look at you. A face handsome enough for a portrait."

"Will you John?"

"Will I what?"

"Draw me."

John's features were restful as he moved his hands under his lover's shirt. "For you, anything," John responded as he lifted Sherlock higher and closer on top of him.

"When?" Sherlock inquired between kisses and John biting his bottom lip.

"Whenever you want and however you want." John said breathlessly.

"Tomorrow?" Sherlock asked as he took a pause to kiss and bite John's neck.

"Tomorrow," John agreed.

 

***

 

The next day John sat at the clinic thinking of nothing other than Sherlock. He couldn't believe the night before he had agreed to draw that beautiful man. Secretly John had drawn Sherlock before; he was an exceedingly frequent muse of his.

He had drawn him a lot during the years of coping with Sherlock's death, but every time he would finish one he would end up throwing it away or burning it. The memory of his face was too painful to remember but not so easily forgotten.

His therapist would suggest he'd draw other things than Sherlock because how was he suppose to move on from him if Sherlock was all he drew and thought about. So John would try, and try, and try again to create something different like a landscape or a couple enjoying a stroll in the park, but like waves to the shore, his mind and hands would always drift back to Sherlock.

Since his return he hadn't drawn him since. He deeply missed it in all honesty. Darkening the indent of his cheekbones, defining each individual curl with the shading of his pencil, and adding a splash of color to those eyes, the same inconceivable eyes that he would always find himself lost in.

John wondered what that man was doing right now. He again missed him terribly, he wanted to go home right now and take Sherlock as he was. Just to show and reassure him how much John truly loved him. John's shift ended at nine o'clock which meant he'd get home at about nine fifteen. The time didn't slip away fast enough.

A significant amount of time had passed until John looked up at the clock with the night closing in around him.

 _Eight o'clock,_ he said to himself.

Not too much longer now. Fifteen minutes had passed until he heard a ping arrive and light up the inside of his pocket.

 

 _I'm ready for you. Bring your talent home to me. -SH_  

 

Not too much longer. He was ready for him as well. Sherlock wanted his hands holding a pencil but John wanted his hands to hold Sherlock's body instead.

As soon as nine o'clock arose, John had never left the building so quickly.

As he strolled up the stairs he could hear the quiet undertones of Sherlock's violin grow louder as he ventured further up the incline. He pushed open the door to find Sherlock swaying with his violin in hand while wearing his dressing gown. The rest of the flat was dark while the sitting room was lit with dim light illuminating both of their chairs and with a raging fire crackling in the fireplace.

In John's chair lay a fairly large and brand new sketchbook. "I've been ready for hours," Sherlock remarked.

"Its only been one," John said with a laugh while taking off his coat.

"Let's get to it then," John said with a lick of his lips.

"On the table are your choices of mediums," Sherlock said with a gesture of his bow. "Wasn't sure which one you preferred." John cleared his throat as he made his way over to the table. Scanning his array of choices he settled upon a black charcoal pencil and acrylic paint; along with a brush and a glass of water.

When John turned around, Sherlock had his back facing towards him.

"Anyway I want?"

"Sorry?" John asked as he sat in his chair, getting himself comfortable and setting down his supplies.

"You will draw me anyway I want?"

"Anyway you want," John said, getting a sudden tingle that raced its way through his body.

A sudden bewitching look flashed in Sherlock's face as his hands moved down his body.

"How are you with anatomy?" Sherlock challenged as he shed and dropped his gown to the floor exposing his smooth naked body.

John nearly dropped the cup in his hand as the heat and blood in his body rushed to his waist. "Yeah I can do that," John said looking Sherlock up and down.

"How do you want me?" Sherlock asked.

"Under me," John responded as he lifted his weak body up from his chair grabbing Sherlock by the hips and pushing his bare physique in his chair. Sherlock melted as John fit himself between his legs and as he nipped at his collar bone. Sherlock gripped the back of John's neck moaning in his ear, feeling the blood rush to his crotch.

"No I meant position."

"I want you in so many," John joked.

Sherlock lifted John's head looking half annoyed and half turned on. "After you draw me."

John scoffed along with a loving smile and with his eyes he agreed to Sherlock's request.

John's erection started to deflate. Before he got up Sherlock pulled and captured his lips for a passionate and long kiss, "my body is for your eyes only." John eyes flickered with lust and his body tingled with the need to touch.

"For my eyes only," he repeated as he interlaced his fingers momentary with Sherlock's.

John set the sketchbook on his lap and positioned the pencil in his hand as he watched Sherlock fidgit in his chair. John smiled as Sherlock relaxed into what he wanted.

He had his legs extended over one arm of the chair, the leg in front at a bend with its foot rested upon the chairs arm. He lifted and arched his hips exposing as much of his arse cheek as he could. He then draped one bicep over the remaining arm of the chair and let his hand go limp. He straightened his back and rested his right palm behind his ear letting it sink into his curls as he reposed his elbow on top of his chair. Lastly, he turned his head in John's direction, his eyes ushering John to commence.

"My God," John said in a low awestruck whisper before he touched his pencil to the paper. This made Sherlock turn a hinted shade of pink as he winked in John's direction.

The man with the charcoal hesitated, staring at the man before him. Sherlock looked so gorgeous with the light so flattering to his lineaments making every inch of his robust, skinny body look positively consumable to John's intense sensual thirst. John had to bite his lip and calm his cock so that he wouldn't jump up from his chair again. Resistance wasn't his strong suit when Sherlock looked so appetizing.

"I quite enjoy the way you're looking at me," Sherlock teased as he ran the hand resting in his curls down his chest and to his cock that was being hidden by the leg that was bent at the knee.

"Sherlock I swear...," John trailed off as he began to sketch while trying to ignore the resurgence of his boner.

Sherlock grinned with a groan escaping his lips, teasing John some more. "I enjoy playing with your lust," Sherlock added.

"Stay still," said John. He tried incredibly hard not to touch himself. The faster he'd get the drawing done the faster he could get to Sherlock. In just that little span of time he had sketched out the neck and shoulders. Both places where he had left countless amounts of love bites and kisses; and on John's neck and shoulders, Sherlock had done in return.

"What do you have done so far?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Just your neck and shoulders."

"Ah, both places you love to kiss," said Sherlock rolling his neck and shoulders as he imagined how they would look on paper.

"What next?" He asked again.

"Your arms."

"Describe them to me."

John noticed instantly what he was doing but he didn't care. He was willing to play along and talk dirty. "Your arms, my god they're thin but muscular. I love to see them shake as you struggle to stay above me. As I kiss and lick my tounge down your body," John hissed as he added detailed veins to each arm. John could see Sherlock shiver out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes," Sherlock said with slowly closing eyes.

"Then I'm going to draw your hands." John was beginning to struggle with the temptation.

"My hands? You mean the same hands that have tugged on your swollen throbbing cock and scratched their way down your back."

"The same hands that have gripped onto bed sheets and pillows as I thrust into you and make drive you closer to coming." John drew Sherlock's hands thick and powerful like they have always been. He also drew long fingers and strong, arched knuckles.

"The same hands I have held throughout our time together."

John took a pause, unsure of why he had blurted out such a sentimental statement.

"And vow to never let them go again." An image of from Sherlock's fall bolted through his mind. An image of John grabbing one of Sherlock's hands and feeling no pulse. But that was the past and it didn't matter anymore.

Sherlock bowed his head slightly and smiled from John's romantic comment. "I plan to hold yours just as firmly." John smiled with a thankful expression.

He scratched his pencil, "next your chest," he continued.

"What a beautiful chest that is."

"Not as remarkable as yours," Sherlock implied.

"Oh?"

Sherlock cleared his dry throat. "Because within such a chest lies something unparalleled to anything I've ever experienced. It contains a heart; the same heart that has always cared and grown to love an egotistical arsehole as myself." Sherlock looked John deeply in the eyes. "And I thank him everyday for this."

John smiled tenderly as he put down his pencil to go and kiss the man he loved. Sherlock stretched his arms gripping his fingers onto the back of John's neck as his head fell backwards.

They both loved each other so much it was ridiculous.

Their tongues played with each other until John broke the kiss touching his forehead to Sherlock's.

"As much as you don't like to admit it, your chest contains a heart as well, and I'm so lucky to have it beat for me," John cooed.

"For you and only you."

John stared at his love a bit longer until he began to get up.

"John," Sherlock pleaded, beckoning him to stay.

"Nope, you said I had to draw you first," John shot back for some much needed revenge.

"Now for your waist and arse. I could go on and on about them." John made sure to make Sherlock's arse tight and plump.

"I love gripping yours and sliding my long fingers into it" Sherlock provoked as he curled them.

"Mmh, yes of course. No one can make me writhe like you do," John agreed.

"The way you lube them up and add each one slowly, making my back arch and thighs tremble."

"Tell about my hips John and how they buck from underneath you when you fuck me obscenely."

Sherlock loved this. John complementing his body as he engraved him forever in a work of art. He began to move his hand again to his cock as John's words of endearment pleasured his ear.

"Your hips are so prominent. I love to nibble at them and hold them when I thrust into you and you try to hold them still. But the best thing about your hips is when I take you in my mouth." John licked his lips and made a slight popping sound with them to make sure Sherlock could hear him.

As he drew, he also began to outline the leather of the chair Sherlock perched in. Then shading it appropriately in correlation to how the light hit it.

"When your body completely indulges and your hips can't control their movements. As you fuck my mouth while my lips and tongue pull up and swirl the head of your cock."

"Oh yes," Sherlock said breathlessly as he tugged slightly at his beating erection. "If you keep talking like this I might have to release myself."

"Don't you dare," John said in a sinister tone as he etched the curve of hips and the thickness of his thighs on the paper. John took his free hand and began to toy with his own cock as Sherlock's deep moans compelled him to do so.

"I won't if you won't. I'll save myself for you," Sherlock bargained.

"In the mean time I'll destract you. My thighs, don't you love to kiss and lick inside them?"

 _That prick_ , John thought. He wasn't helping.

Between breaths and strokes on the page John was beginning to become restless but he wasn't going to ruin his work.

"Such lovely thighs. I love to straddle them as I look at your edible and enticing cock. Or as you wrap them around my hips and as you hover over and descend your cock inside me; while I hold and command you to come," John said as he drew the rest of Sherlock's legs and feet. Sherlock agonized to stay stationary as he glanced to see John rub his free hand between his own thighs.

"Oh John," Sherlock groaned as he kicked his legs lightly and rolled his hips.

"Keep your toes still. I know how you love to curl them."

"Only when you pleasure me with your hands, cock, and mouth. Such talented hands you have."

"I'm flattered."

"Mm, you should be," Sherlock said as curled his toes just as John described.

"Now for your face." Sherlock turned his head giving John the angle he needed. John started by drawing a light outline of his head slowly filling in the detail. Itemizing his strong jaw line and darkening his defined and chissled cheekbones. With his utensil he plumped Sherlock's thin but full, kissable lips that had absorbed endless amounts of John's moans and orgasms.

"Your kissable lips...," said John in a flirtatious murmur.

"Why don't you come over here and give them a taste?"

John smiled again, "not until I'm finished but believe me, I plan to." John then sketched Sherlock's hair. Making each curl as wild and individual as they always have been.

"So much hair," John commented.

"Shut up, you love to tangle your fingers in it."

"Ears," continued John. "Nose." He finished up the detail in face saving the best part for last before he would lightly go over the drawing with watered down paint.

"And now my favorite part, your beautiful eyes." John looked over at the nude man in the chair as Sherlock's wicked gaze tantalized John to come to him.

"What shade are they tonight, love?" John asked picking up a thin paintbrush and dipping it in the glass of water.

"You tell me." Sherlock said as he stabbed him more vividly with his stare.

John leaned forward in his chair, "all three it looks like." So that's how John painted them; mixing in blue, green, and gold all at once.

"Almost done?" Sherlock asked in a stiff groan.

"Almost done," said John. All he had to do was finish painting Sherlock's body, mimicking every low and highlight in his touchable skin.

By the time John was done, his station was a mess. Paint and charcoal all over the floor and all over his hands. John gave his drawing one final look and blew softly at the excess material left over on the canvas.

"Alright," John said stretching his arms and throwing down his paintbrush.

Sherlock unhitched himself from his current position and got up to see John's good work. He kneeled down resting his palms on the floor for a moment to strengthen his legs. When he lifted his palms, his hands were littered with charcoal and blemishes of paint. Sherlock took the pad in his hands and covered his mouth, studying it.

"Do I really look like that?"

John rolled his eyes, "yes you do."

"Well, it's captivating, it's wonderful. I love it." He smiled up at John and John smiled back as he pinched Sherlock's chin. Sherlock got up and set the painting on the coffee table in the kitchen and when he returned he sat on John's lap.

Sherlock moved his hand up his thigh with a seductive lift of his eyebrow, leaving a trail of charcoal on his inner thigh from touching the material infested ground. John replied with an eyebrow lift of his own and lay a hand upon Sherlock's cheek, leaving a black hand print. "So beautiful," cooed John. Sherlock slid his palm up John's wrist and caught John's palm, letting their black coated hands mesh together.

"Such gifted hands," Sherlock said as he moved John's palm against his lips. Sherlock leaned over and kissed John's neck wetly, and suddenly in his ear he whispered, "use them on me."

That was all the invitation John needed before he picked Sherlock up and slammed him down on his chair. Sherlock straddled his legs around John just like always before he consumed John's lips and unbuttoned his shirt.

"We should probably wash our hands," John said with a groan, suffocating in Sherlock's hard relentless kiss.

"No time," Sherlock said as he grabbed one of John's hands and placed it on his cock while he grinded his hips against John's growing erection. John kissed Sherlock's shoulders as Sherlock bit his earlobe. John pumped Sherlock's cock in a steady pace.

"I know you can do better," Sherlock growled. John tugged faster, hearing Sherlock's hitched breath pant in his ear. Sherlock rubbed John's crotch and slipped his hand in John's trousers.

"There you go Michelangelo," Sherlock taunted as he shed the rest of John's shirt, leaving black streaks from his fingers down his chest and kissing it passionately.

"Sher-"

"Ah," Sherlock stammered over and over as he neared closer to coming. John rolled his thumb across the head of Sherlock's cock, feeling the pre-come ooze out of it. John kissed and bit of his bottom lip giving it a light tug, while Sherlock breathed large gulps of weak air in the mouth of the man draining his adrenaline.

"Oh those hands," Sherlock said with hips pulsing against John's.

"I'm going to c-," Sherlock couldn't finish the sentence. 

"Oh god please do," John said eyeing him up. "So perfect," John whispered in crook of Sherlock's neck before Sherlock came copiously in John's hot hand. John snickered immorality as he tongued the inside Sherlock's open mouth.

"I guess I'm not the only one who's been dirty," said John as he got up from on top of Sherlock to clean his hands, upper half, and face. Sherlock smiled with a laugh, not denying his statement. Sherlock looked down at his cock coated with come, charcoal and paint. Sherlock rolled over in his chair as he watched John cleanse himself.

"Come here and clean yourself up?" John asked as he soaked his watery filled rag. Sherlock compiled and with jiddery legs he wobbled over to sink. John again lathered the rag in water and handed it to Sherlock. John watched as Sherlock moved the rag all over his body that had been touched by John's smudged hands. He grinned and pulled him in and touched their pelvises together.

Looking his body over, John insinuated, "for my eyes only."

Intimately Sherlock retorted, "for your eyes only," and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"We're so dirty," said John examining both their bodies covered in come, charcoal and paint.

"How about a shower?"

"Sounds lovely," John said, placing a peck on Sherlock's lips before running off behind him where they would soon be under the warm heat of the water.


End file.
